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I look up at her, wondering what it was that flashed in her eyes before she regains control of herself, but then her hand is on my chest, her mouth seeking mine. I have no right to ask questions, just like I have no right to all the other emotions swimming around in my head.
What she is giving me permission to is her body, and I need to take full advantage of that. Come tomorrow, there’s a very good possibility she’ll revoke that again as well.
I lower myself, my lips and mouth working a trail down to her breasts, and I swear I’m going to have a wet spot on my own clothes with the throat rumble of pleasure that erupts from her lips.
She’s so damn responsive, and the way her cheeks heat when I look up at her after she makes certain sounds tells me that it’s her honest reaction to me. She isn’t playing a game. She isn’t pretending. The woman thoroughly enjoys what I do to her body. No one has ever turned me on as much as she does, and as much as I’ve fought going to her room and begging for just one more taste of her skin on my tongue, I knew it was a losing battle. It seems a week is my breaking point because I sure as hell didn’t falter once I saw her at the bar tonight.
“Oh God,” she gasps when I pull at her nipple, my teeth digging in only a little.
Her fingers are tangled in my hair by the time I make it to the second one. They’re hard as pebbles under my attention. As much as I know she likes my mouth on her breasts, I can’t ignore that mild pressure she adds to get me to go lower.
I’ve learned that I have to listen to her body instead of expecting her words. I think she’s embarrassed enough about the intimate times we’ve been together to voice what she wants, but paying attention to every aspect of how she responds makes it very clear.
I swipe my tongue against her lower belly, but I keep on moving. She has some kind of hatred for that part of her body, but once again, I’d never bring it up and risk her shutting down on me. I pull her panties down her thighs as my mouth travels over her hip bone. Her knees seem to weaken as I nip at the skin there, her body dipping a few inches before she can straighten back up.
“On the bed,” I demand as I stand, a smile coming to my lips when she groans at the loss of my mouth on her.
She isn’t quick to move, but I think that has more to do with the uncertainty she has in her body’s ability than an interest in what I have to offer.
“You know what I want,” I tell her after she flattens her back to the bed.
She swallows, her cheeks already red, but her hands move over the crest of her hips, seeking that slick center I can’t seem to get enough of.
“That’s it,” I praise when her fingers skate over her clit.
Her head arches, and I hate that I’ve lost her eyes.
“Not too much,” I warn. “Making you come is my job. Just keep it warm for me, baby.”
I’m breathless by the time she reopens her eyes and gives me some of her attention.
“Hurry,” she begs.
My head tells me to rush, but my hands are slower. I’m not in control of much these days, but I need to maintain what little power I have over this situation.
I take a deep breath as I kick off my boots and shove down my jeans. I’m taking steps closer to her as I kick them to the side, growling in frustration when I have to go back and pull a condom from my wallet.
I drop it beside her, needing more of her as she makes that needy sound I love so much when I pull her fingers free and suck them into my mouth.
Her own jaw seems unhinged, but she’s learned from previous times with me, and she doesn’t pull her eyes from mine. I love it when she watches. I want her to see what I see. There’s nothing embarrassing about the way her body responds to mine, the way it slickens and grows ready for me.
I keep my eyes locked on hers as I pull her fingers from my mouth and lower my tongue to that sensitive part of her. She repositions, sitting up on her elbows so she can watch me. I’ve never felt more powerful than I do right now with my arms on the edge of the bed, my knees on the floor, my mouth locked on her decadent pussy.
I moan at the taste of her, lapping at her tender flesh twice before pulling her clit into the suction of my mouth.
Despite her displeasure in me pulling her hair earlier, she has no problem doing the same to me. The difference? I fucking love that she loses herself enough to thrash under my attention. I feed off the urgency that’s unspoken but is clear in the way every muscle in her body tightens.
I feel like a god with my ability to make her lose herself enough that she whispers her pleas into the semidarkness that’s swirling around us.
“Chase,” she groans but her body is already doing exactly what I want it to. I don’t relent until the pulsing against my tongue stops.
She whimpers when I pull back and press the tips of two fingers against her entrance. I’m obsessed with the way it seems like the first time anyone has ever touched her. She’s so damn responsive every single time, and that in itself is addictive.
I’ve heard rumblings of a longer-term boyfriend, and her being back home after a breakup, but I know that man is a fool without having met him. No one in their right mind gives up someone like her. Even if he made a mistake and let her leave, then he’s a bigger fool for not crawling on hands and knees across the town square in an effort to try and get her back.
She reaches for me as I stand and reach for the condom.
“Please,” she begs again, and I give her exactly what she wants, my hand stroking my length twice before I have to release myself and clench my hand in a fist. “Feels too good. You’ll feel better.”
